


The way to a man's heart is through his stomach

by LatteGrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Bottom Harry, Cake, Cooking, Drarry, France (Country), Height Differences, M/M, New York, Top Harry, cuisine, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LatteGrey/pseuds/LatteGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry never thought that Draco could be that nice, and cook that well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What is a Cordon Bleu?

“Blimey, Harry!”, Ron exclaimed as Harry proceeded to ignore his question the fourth time in a roll.Hermione slaps his arm, and Harry startles.

“Oi! Hermione, what the hell?”

She puffs and rolls her eyes,“Ron has been trying to talk to you”, she says, and motions to Ron, who sat there with his mouth half-open.

“I’m sorry”, Harry responded, stuffing his mouth with pie.

“So?”, Ron said expectantly.

“So what?”

“Who are you taking to that ball?” Ron repeated at least.

Oh, yes. The Ball. The Graduation Ball. He would take Ginny, of course, but she broke up with him last week, which meant that taking her was definitely not possible. Even worst, she was going with Neville already. And Harry would have to stand there, watching Ginny dancing with Neville, and Hermione dancing with Ron, and so on with all of his other friends, all of them with their respective dates and Harry, all by himself.

“I don’t know yet”, Harry lied, “but I’ll figure it out”. No he won’t. He won’t even try. He’ll just disappear three minutes after the ball starts, and will go suffer by himself. Normal. Who the bloody hell would like a normal life? That’s a typical normal teenager stuff, isn’t it? Bailing the ball because he has no one to go with. Fuck it, he thought. He can deal with normal for once.

—

Harry stoop there, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, but no news there. His skin looked yellow, almost sick. His vests were a bit too long for him, and sure enough he could do better, but he was so used to oversized clothes that it almost felt… comfortable. His glasses were dirty, so he cleaned the lenses, but not with a spell, rubbing the edge of his robes at them. It was nice to remind himself that he could do things without magic too. 

“Come on, Harry”, Ron called from behind him, “We don’t want to be later than the girls”. As if.  
“How could we tease them otherwise?”, said Seamus, and the boys left the dormitories, with Harry following them just a bit behind. It would be alright, he thought. Go, grab a bite, leave as soon as he can. No hurt feelings. 

The Gryffindor common room was a mess. There is no other way to describe it. The walls where mended, there was about half pieces of furniture than there used to be before the war, you could still see spots where the stone was marked by the destruction of Hogwarts battle. Even so, they were happy to have it that way. It showed them that life could be back to normal, yes, all that they need was time. And a bloody heck of work, the reconstruction of the castle took almost a whole year and it wasn't even done yet.

This year the ball would be twice as crowded as usual. Instead of doing one for the seventh year students who where actually meant to be in the seventh year and one for the seventh year students who were supposed to be in the seventh year last year but the war got completely on the way, McGonagall decided to do only one ball. So, pretty much the largest party that Hogwarts ever had since… well Harry couldn’t tell for sure but since a good time. At least since the beginning of his education there.

The boys didn’t had to wait long, his pairs were arriving bit by bit, and they were leaving the common room with goofy smiles on their faces. Hermione was wearing a beautiful lilac dress, which left her shoulders naked, the elegant tail of the gown floating behind her as she walked off the girl’s dormitory. 

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione”, Ron said, eyes wide.

“You look gorgeous”, added Harry, smiling to his friend.

“Thank you, Harry. You look pretty good too”, she said as she recomposed herself, but Harry knew that he looked pretty… well, pretty bad, pretty ruffled, pretty messy.

They walked together to the great hall, Hermione and Ron’s conversation going amiss to Harry’s ears. He only had to answer once that, no, he doesn’t has a date, and yes, he’ll enjoy the party still. Liar, liar, liar. 

Harry was glad that this ball wasn’t like the Yule Ball. If it where, he would have to be announced, and he has dealt with enough spotlight for a lifetime. People danced together and laughed, and it wasn’t long until he felt like he was third wheeling Ron and Hermione too much. He excused himself and went to fetch himself some food.

Arrive, smile, eat a bit, smile, and go away. That was the plan, he should stick with his plan.

But then the oddest thing happened. Well not quite the oddest of all, but definitely one of the most unexpected ones coming from Draco Malfoy. He approached Hermione. Harry couldn’t quite listen from the food table, but Malfoy didn’t talk much, a few nods from Hermione and half a smile were enough for him to excuse himself. Harry took his last piece of shepherd’s pie inside his mouth as he watched Hermione and Ron coming to him.

“Harry you won’t believe what just happened”, started Ron.

“I just saw it”, interrupted Harry, “what did he said?”

“Well”, Hermione shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe it herself, “he apologized to me”

“Really?” Harry was glad that he had already swallowed his pie, otherwise he would have choked, “ how come?”

“He just said ‘I’m sorry for being such a horrible prat with you, friends?’” answered Ron, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“It wasn’t quite that”, she buffed, “but close, to be honest. I was baffled. He sounded so sincere. And his eyes, Harry.”

“He even apologized to me, sort of. Wished us the best and everything.” Ron added, “Usually I would punch the bloke for even trying to talk to us, but that was almost nice.”

“Yes it was”, Harry said, eyes searching for the blond head, unable to find it, “sure was”.

Another ten minutes went by and Seamus and Dean came for a quick chat. Ginny complimented his robes, and he complimented her dress. He went for a stroll all around the great hall, and was ready for leaving when Luna asked him for a dance.

The waltzed to an upbeat song, Luna twirling, and even though Harry missed a step or two, Luna didn’t seen to mind. She was wearing a blue dress, he noticed, shorter than most girls, with a lot of volume on its bottom, which sort of made it look like a cloud. Around her neck she wore a necklace that was enchanted with a sapphire hare that ran and jumped between silver loops connected by a thin wire. Sometimes the hare stopped and stood still, so it could be admired, and sometimes it just ran freely, almost escaping the loops.

“That’s a beautiful necklace”, he said.

“Oh, thank you, Harry. It was a gift from Draco”, she answered gingerly.

“I’m sorry, who?”, Harry gaped.

“Draco Malfoy. You know him, of course. He gave me as a valentine’s day gift.”

“You exchanged valentine’s gifts?”

“He had one for me, but I wasn’t quite expecting one, so I gave his gift a day later. He does enjoying giving gifts. Since the war ended he gave me three gifts already. Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Luna, lovely”, Harry says as he looks for Malfoy, spotting him only a few meters away, leaning against the wall, and he makes eye contact. Harry looks away quickly. “Why does Malfoy give you so many gifts?”

“He likes to, I suppose. He always get happy when he see me wearing his gifts. And they are always so beautiful. You should see the sweater he gave me for christmas.”

“Christmas?” Harry asked, just as he felt a light hand touch his shoulder, turning around to see Malfoy himself, standing just beside them.

“Pardon for interrupting”, he said, but didn’t look sorry at all, in Harry’s opinion, “May I?” and he gesticulated to Luna, who turned at Harry.

“Sure”, Harry answered unsure of it, “of course”, and he let go of Luna, walking away as Malfoy started dancing with her.

As if this night could get any stranger. Harry lingered a bit by the Great Hall’s entrance, watching as everything fell into place together. Like a big puzzle, people danced and laughed and they had their destiny and things to do tomorrow. They would all depart to somewhere. They all had a plan, even if the plan was to have no plans at all. And he? He just stood there, feeling as if he didn’t belong anymore. Pointless, isn’t it? 

—

That night was particularly starry. Harry could identify dozens of constellations without even looking for them. Perhaps one of the clearer sky he has ever seen. He felt tears roll down his cheek, why was he even crying?

It was his last day at Hogwarts. Some of those people he would see for the last time. And, instead enjoying the ball as he was supposed to, enjoying the last hours he had in Hogwarts, all he could do was that. Sit by the astronomy tower and cry.

Someone was coming up the stairs, so Harry dried his tears before whoever it was could see them.

Malfoy stopped by the last step, perhaps waiting for Harry to turn around.

“Should I leave?”, Malfoy asked when Harry didn’t turn.

“Yes”, and Harry sensed that he really was going to leave, so he added, “I mean, no. Whatever. Stay.”

“Which one, Potter?”, his voice was calm and strange altogether to Harry’s ears.

“I don’t know”

Malfoy approached him, sitting by his side. Silence. Harry looked up at the stars again. Normally he would say something. Ask Malfoy what he was up to. Why he was so nice to Luna. Why he apologized to Hermione and Ron. Why he was sitting there, by his side, waiting for him to do something.

“Is this your first time here? I mean, since…”, Draco trailed off, his eyes fixed, gazing the stars as if they spelled the answer to all his problems.

“Yes”, and Harry just became aware of it. Since the night that Dumbledore died. It was indeed his first night there.

The night was supposed to be warm, since it was almost summer, but the nocturne air made Harry shiver nonetheless.

“Thank you, Potter” Malfoy said in only one breath, as if this was he only opportunity to say it. Even after a whole year as a 'normal student' with Harry.

“What for?” Harry thought he knew why Malfoy was thanking him, but he needed to be sure.

“Helping us. Believing me.” He took a second, “Killing him.”

Malfoy stood and started to leave, he was already two steps down when Harry called him, “Wait”

He did, turning around and meeting Harry’s gaze. Harry opens his mouths, searching for words.

“Yes?”

“I just… Well… Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes,” Harry ran a hand through his hair, “why have you been so nice to people?”. He could barely believe that such words just left his lips.

“I’m going away, Harry”, Malfoy answered, even tone, as if he practiced it on the mirror, “Tomorrow. I’m leaving England.”

“What for?”, Harry asked before he could stop himself.

“Too much history here. I need closure. And I need to get away for a while. So I’m apologizing for my mistakes and leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“France.”

“Well then”, Harry looked down, not understanding this conversation at all, “have a good life.”

“Thank you, Potter. You too”. And he went away.

That was the most civil conversation they ever held, and their eyes didn’t even met. It took Harry ten minutes to get back to the great hall and have the best ball of his life.  
—

 

Harry expected to be a long time before he ever saw Malfoy again, if not ever, so he was pretty surprised to find the blond opening the door of Andromeda’s house.

You see, Harry had a perfectly sound reason to be there. It was sunday and, even though sunday usually was the day he went to have lunch with the Weasleys, every last sunday of the month was “godfather and godson” day, as Harry have decided. So, he gaped at Malfoy, who took more than a few seconds to realize that he was the one out of place there.

“Hi”, Harry finally managed, “I’m here to see Teddy?”, he said, and even though it wasn’t a question it sure sounded like one.

“Oh, of course”, Draco said and properly opened the door, gesticulating for Harry to get inside, “Aunt Andromeda is out with Mother for a stroll, but they shall return shortly”.

“Right”, Harry entered the hallway, looking around. He wasn't sure which one he was supposed to do, ask were Teddy was or ask why Malfoy was here.

“Come with me,” Malfoy said, and Harry followed him. Having Malfoy being civil was at least odd. During their last days of Hogwarts Malfoy was near invisible, only going to class and then the library and then the dorms. Sometimes he wouldn't even show up by de Great Halls to eat. No snarky comments, no sneers, no glaring.

Teddy was sitting in his high chair in the kitchen, his face and hands all messy and dirty with whip cream, strawberry and cake. Giving the fact that Teddy was no more than a three years old and quite busy with devouring the rest of his cake with his hand, he gave Harry no more than a look and a shy “hi”.

“Hello, Teddy”, Harry said, sitting in a chair by his side. But he could not pretend to engage in conversation with a three year old, he would seem stupid - and beyond that, it would sound rude, as if he was doing so just to avoid Malfoy. “So”, Harry cleared his throat, “how was it in… Sorry where were you at again?”

“France”, Malfoy answered without turning to face Harry, quite busy filling up the kettle and putting it to boil, “Tea?”

“Yes, please”

“France was good. It still is good”, Malfoy said while he was going through the many options of tea inside the cabinet, settling for Earl Grey, “I’m currently just visiting England, I don’t intend to stay”.

“Oh.” Harry reached inside his pockets, grabbing a small box and placing it on the table.

“Cake?” Malfoy asked as he finished pouring the tea, and sliced some for Harry even before he could answer. Apparently, he was having tea and cake with Draco Malfoy.

“Thank you”, Harry nodded, and observed the cake and the tea being placed in front of him.

“And how’s England?”

“Quite nice, actually. I’m almost finishing auror training”, small talking with Malfoy, Harry thought, what a pleasant afternoon.  
“Already? Wasn’t it supposed to last for at least four years?” Malfoy asked, and Harry could sense that he would go all ‘there is some advantages for the chosen one’, but he decided that he would be as polite as he could with this conversation.

“Yes, but they are needing as many people as they can get. And since I fought in the war there was some parts that they just skipped ahead.”

"I see.” Malfoy put a piece of cake in his mouth and swallowed it before continuing, “I’m glad they have you, then.”

That’s it? He wasn’t going to make a sarcastic comment? Blabber about how Harry has ever got was because the scar in his forehead? How privileged the Boy Who Lived was? What the bloody hell?

“And what about you? I mean, what have you been doing in France?”

Malfoy took a second thinking, then he rested his chin on his hand and looked beyond Potter, as if he was trying to properly formulate his response.

“I study at Le Cordon Bleu, in Paris.”

Harry nodded, quickly stuffing his mouth with cake as he tried to come with a reasonable reaction. He never heard of that school before. What was it even about?

“That’s some really good cake”, Harry commented, and it was. At first he thought it could be poisoned or something - it was Malfoy after all -, but the cake was beyond safe, it was delicious.

“Thank you”, Malfoy answered casually, bickering his tea.

“Were did you get it?”

“I made it.”, Malfoy chuckled, half smile on his face, and Harry was as surprised by it as he was by his answer. Then he looked at Teddy, who had wiped his plate clean, or as clean as he could, and Harry followed his eyes. “Want some more?”, Draco asked, and Teddy giggled happily, what was probably a ‘yes’.

Draco put another cake slice to Teddy, who promptly grabbed bits with his hands and started eating. “Don’t tell Aunt”, he said to Potter, who was busy watching his godson make more of a mess of himself, “She only allows me to give a slice per day to Teddy."

“I promise not to tell anything if you give me another one”, he answered jokingly, then noticed how weird it was that he and Malfoy had been so behaved all the time.

“Knock yourself you, Potter, I could care less about the amount of sugar in your blood”, he retorted with a sneer, but placed another slice on Harry’s plate as doing it. There it was, the Malfoy he knew. In parts, at least, the Malfoy he knew would never give cake to Harry, even worst, he would never bake cake.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

“This?”

“This whole being nice thing. Apologizing to Hermione and Ron, taking care of Teddy, giving expensive gifts to Luna, baking cakes and stuff.”

“I apologized to then over a year ago”, Draco stiffed against his chair, “and we went through the fact on that same evening. No need to further discuss it, Potter”

“Yes, but the gifts and this whole…”

“Listen”, Malfoy said with a clipped tone, “I am one of the most hated wizards in the whole country”

“That’s not quite true”, Harry interrupted, but Malfoy put up a finger.

“I said ‘Listen’”, he pronounced every word in the same way a pressure pot whistled, “I can’t be out in the street without everyone glaring at me. I wasn’t able to walk around Hogwarts and not feel heads turning when I passed by. They whispered and gossiped and even the media won’t leave me alone. I know that I’ve wronged tones of people. I apologized to the ones I could. I knew that I wouldn’t stand the pressure of living in the wizard society, so I left. And that’s it.”

“But why are you so nice to me?” Harry should have sensed it. He should have known that he wasn’t supposed to ask things like that. As he watched Malfoy’s skin turn red, he tried to come up with something that could fix what he just said.

“Because,” he started, and Harry could swear that he was about to snap, to flip the table and crack his head in half and use his brain to bake another cake or something like it, but then it came, cold as ice, full of venom, typical Malfoy, “Because I have to.”

Oh. Okay then. Harry ran a hand through his hair and quietly finished his cake. He looked at the box he left on the table. He grabbed it and handed it to Malfoy.

“It’s a gift”, he explained, “to Teddy.” Malfoy opened it, and a plush Snitch flew out of it. The thing was quite slower than an actual snitch, and a bit bigger, ideal for a toddler to play with.

“Such a darling thing”, Malfoy said, and Harry wasn’t sure if that was actual Malfoy or the ‘I-have-to-be-nice-Malfoy’.

“If you excuse me”, Harry stood, “I have to be off now. Nice seeing you, Malfoy. If you’re ever around England again send me an owl”, he said, and off the kitchen he went, without even saying good-bye to Teddy.

—

It has been a whole week, and Harry sat with Hermione and Ron after lunch at the burrow, lazily talking about nothing much. Since Hogwarts they live diverged a bit, Ron helping at the store, Hermione trying to escalate at the minister, Harry overstuffed with this whole being an auror business. Even so, nearly the only time they meet was during these peaceful sunday lunchs, the routine so tedious that they were short on subjects. There’s the reason why Harry decided to bring up the whole ‘Malfoy Incident’.

“What’s the Cordon Bleu?”

“It’s meat wrapped around cheese, then breaded and fried”, Hermione answered in a heartbeat, not even glancing away from her book.

“That sounds good”, Ron added, as if he hadn’t just eat about three pounds of food by himself.

“Oh. So he was just taking a piss out of me.” Harry said more to himself, a bit disappointed.

“He?”, asked Hermione.

“Yes, Malfoy. I meet with him in Andromeda’s house. I went by to see Teddy, and there he was, babysitting him while Andromeda and his mother went out for a stroll. I asked him about his life and he told me that he was studying at Cordon Bleu in Paris.”

“Malfoy is studying at Le Cordon Bleu? In Paris?” Hermione gaped, immediately sitting straighter and putting her book in her lap, “How’s that even possible?”

“I don’t know you just said that’s not even a school”, Harry retorted, frowning his brows.

“It’s the greatest school of cuisine chefs, Harry. In the world”, Hermione took a breath, “and it’s muggle.”

Ron chuckled, “Come on, Hermione. Malfoy? In a muggle school?”

“Well it does makes sense”, Harry said, judging the conversation they had, “He told me that he would never be able to live with the wizard society again”.

“But even so, I’m surprised he got accepted, it’s not exactly easy to me admitted there.”

“He does a very good cake”, Harry shrugged, slightly off-put by the whole situation there. 

“How do you mean cake?”, Ron asked.

“He had baked one at Andromeda’s house. Even let me have two pieces. He was actually being quite nice and all.” Never mind his almost breakdown in the end, Malfoy was trying, and Harry admired him for it.

The whole afternoon went uneventful, and by late night, when Harry was lying alone on his bed, he noticed something. Malfoy never answered why he gave Luna so much gifts.


	2. Feel welcome to incendio my arse

After Hermione and Ron getting married and Harry getting nowhere with his love life, he decided that he needed a time away from the mess it was his live. He was twenty four, his last girlfriend was Ginny, his last shag happened over six months ago, and the last time he felt anything but harassed going out on the street was… not that long ago since he uses glamour and disguises to go out, but you get the point. So he decided to go to New York.

Not live in New York, of course. Travel. A week or two should do, lost in the muggle world, away from all the pressure of having a reason to exist. And believe it’s though to top “Savior of the World”.

The first night he watched The Phantom of the Opera. Nice. The second one he went to Les Miserables. Quite long. In the third night he saw Wicked, and by the fourth night he would rather stun himself than having to go to another musical. He had to face the truth. And the truth was that seven months without shagging was too much. 

So that’s the story of how Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, ended up all alone on a gay club in the middle of Manhattan. Even though Harry’s bisexual, he quite enjoys one-night stands with men the better, and being in a muggle area he has the chance to go into the club, pick someone, leave the club with then, have lots of sex and his shag won’t be breaking news in The Daily Prophet.

His eyes scanned the club. It was Thursday, so it wasn’t crowded, but the dance floor was quite busy. By his side at the bar, only a few blokes, none of the attractive enough for Harry, at least not that sober, so he knew the right thing to do: three shots of vodka. Just as he was about to make his order, he spot him. There, sitting on a booth beside the bar, with two other friends. Draco Malfoy. Or at least a handsome blond man who looked exactly like him, which was possible, given the fact that Draco lived in France and this was a muggle gay club. But even so, Harry just decided who was going to be ball’s deep in his arse tonight. Unless the man is the actual Malfoy.

“Two vodkas for me, and send another dose of whatever that blond one over there his having to him, please”, Harry said, pointing to the Malfoy lookalike and handing his debit card to the barman. As soon as his doses where served he tipped them into his mouth, and watched as the blond received his drink. He looked up and smiled to Harry. So it was not Malfoy. Malfoy would recognize him.

The guy came over after all. They talked, and smiled, and touched, and twenty minutes later they were making out inside the elevator going to Harry’s hotel room. It was nice, Harry thought, the bloke was fucking hung. Drake, that’s his name. It even sounds like a muggle version of Draco.

The following morning Drake slept by Harry’s side, and he observed his breathing and how his left arm was so pale, and Harry couldn’t help himself but thinking how Malfoy’s live could be different if only his left arm were as pale and unmarked as Drake’s. Of course that Harry realized that picking a guy at the club solely because he looked like Malfoy was a bit disturbing, but he was old enough to deal with his former Draco’s crush. It was not that bad, considering that it was unlikely they would see each other again.

Harry still had three days in New York, and he spent those with Drake guiding him during the day and fucking him during the night. They could be serious. But they weren’t, and a week after Harry went back to London he realized that he didn’t even miss him.

—

“Dear Harry, I would like to invite you to my engagement party. It is going to happen on my own house, and I’m sure you remember how to get here. The date August first, so close to your birthday, isn’t it? I hope to see you.

Hugs, Luna”

The party was a blast. People danced and laughed, eating and enjoying the company of each other as never before. Luna had invited half of England, and Rolf the other half. They sure look good together, very happy also. Her engagement ring was huge and weird, to be honest, so it perfectly fit Luna’s style.

Harry congratulated the happy couple, and it only took him half an hour sipping wine for him to feel completely out of place. Perhaps that was a thing with Harry and big parties that celebrate love and commitment, both things he hadn’t have in years. He was twenty five already and almost hitting himself to get his life together. Hermione got a big ol’ belly full with Weasley babies, Ginny wasn’t far from being married to Neville herself, and George had Angelina, and now Luna. All he needed was firewhiskey.

So he went to the kitchen. Given the amount of food that was out in party, Harry had expected the room to be crowded, but it was all being handled by a single person, who was spinning on his heels to face whoever was interrupting his work.

Harry squinted his eyes to Malfoy, but sighed and leaned against the door, way too tired to discuss anything.

“Hi, Malfoy.”

“Hello, Potter”, and he turned again to the stove, adjusting things with pans that Harry had no idea what could be.

“So”, Harry twirled the wine that was left in his cup, “how was France?”

“I think we already had this conversation”, replied Malfoy instantly.

“Did we? Okay”, Malfoy don’t want Nice Harry, he won’t get Nice Harry. Let him have Drunk and Annoying Harry instead, “How come you are cooking at Luna’s engagement party?”

“It might be surprising to you, Harry, but I’m a chef, and that’s what chefs do.”

“Chefs cooks at their ex-girlfriend’s engagement party?”

Dramatic spin. Ha. “Excuse me?”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“Are you out of your mind, Potter? I have never dated Lovegood, please stop being so obtuse”, Mad browns and a ten-point word for Harry.

“I could swear that you had a crush on her during eight year”, he tried to sound casual, but truth was that Harry had always been curious about it.

“That’s enough wine for you”, Malfoy answered and took Harry’s glass out of his hand, but Harry was pretty sure that it was only because Malfoy couldn’t hex him right there.

“But hell I need more alcohol to stand this party”, he retorted absent-minded.

“No you don’t, now go back to your stardom life of bothering someone that’s not me”, Draco said with his back turned to Harry, and though he sounded like he could strangle him.

Harry left for a moment, and Malfoy was almost relieved, but then he came back with a chair. He sat out of Malfoy’s way, but still inside the kitchen.

“Do you really intend to stay there?”, Draco asked, sounding as if he was about to give up.

“Yes, actually”, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. This whole annoy-malfoy-because-he’s-a-prick thing wasn’t right. He wasn’t even a prick anymore. Perhaps he should apologize and leave.

“Potter”, Malfoy stopped cooking and turned, looking at him. He walked to Harry, firm steps, and leaned over, full-on poker face, “why are you doing this?”

He sighed, “I don’t know”

“Are you feeling lonely? Your friend is getting married and you have no one to call yours, so you’re feeling undesired and decided to throw shit at me because you’re frustrated with your live, or am I wrong?”

Harry looked at Draco. Really looked into his eyes. He was absolutely right.

“I’m sorry”, he said, ashamed of himself, “I just-“, and Harry shuts up, too surprise with Malfoy shoving a batter dirty with something chocolate-ish to continue.

“Lick it”, and it sounded way too commanding. But Harry did, and Malfoy rolled his eyes, “for Merlin’s cunt, Potter, hold the bloody thing first.”

Harry hurried up to get the batter from the blond’s hand, and he went back to the stove, stomping madly.

“I was saving it for Teddy, but you can have it, since you’re such a wreck”.

“Shut up, Malfoy”, Harry said as he turned the batter around, liking the dough. He never got the chance to do this as a child. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ever mention it to anybody or I’ll incendio your arse.”

“Feel welcome to incendio my arse anytime”, Harry replied before he even got a chance to think it through.

Malfoy looked at the ceiling as if it were able to teach him how to be patience with someone like Harry.

“If you don’t stop flirting at me”, he said a few seconds later, “I … Oh, whatever, just don’t flirt at me”

“Wouldn’t it be ‘with me’?”

“Not in your case.”

The batter was now clean, so Harry gazed at it as if it was supposed to refill itself.

“Can I get more of this?” He asked waving the clean batter.

Malfoy’s hand went to his head as if he was going to pull his own hair out. Harry could hear him he mutter under his breath, going all ‘ten, nine, eight’. He summoned an oven glove, pulled a tray from inside the oven, and picked up one chocolate cupcake which he handed Potter with a giant sneer.  
“Can you go away now?”

And Harry did. Only that he was back five minutes later, poking his head inside the kitchen.

“Hey, if you have happen to come by England again, send me an owl.”

And then he ducked a dish that was thrown at him. 

—

The next day started with a rightfully earned hangover. Harry’s head was pounding, and even after taking a hangover potion and a shower, something still bothered him.

Why does he always makes a fool of himself?

Shutting his eyes tightly, he rubbed his temples and tried to make some sense out of his memories. Somehow he remembered Malfoy’s appearance very well, but the dialogue was sort of blurry. He could remember the blond’s hair in a tail, tucked inside his hairnet, his face and apron dirty with flour, his sleeves folded up to his elbows, and he didn’t seem bothered at all by his dark mark.

He should firecall Luna and apologize to Malfoy. He should be the one sending him an owl. Harry were an prat last night, and Draco was nice, as far as he can be. For a second, Harry wished that live wasn’t so confusing, and he was about to firecall Luna, but then he received an urgent call from Shacklebolt.

End of the day, Harry forgot about all that. Sort of.   
—

Harry Bloody Potter.

It has been weeks since he last saw him, but Draco Malfoy couldn’t stop thinking about Harry Bloody Potter. About his fucking smile and his tortuous way of being an complete arse.

“Feel welcome to incendio my arse anytime”. Don’t mind if I do.

And now he was angry-eating. Again. Malfoy looked at the muffin he was holding, conflicted between throwing it at the wall or putting it down. So he shove it down his throat. It was hard to keep his figure with someone so annoying around.

The thing that bothered Malfoy the most, he thought, it was that while that prick got to be hero of the wizarding world, savior of us all, deeply admired by everyone, peacefully living in the wizarding society, Malfoy got to almost hide himself from it, cooking for bloody muggles of all things.

Of course, he loved his job, and would continue with it even if he ever tried to be a part of the magical community again, but his ego was hurt nevertheless. And he even tried to be nice! He apologized to the Weasel and Granger, some of the people he hurt or treated bad during his Hogwarts years -if he tried everyone he would still be apologizing-, and even made some good friends out of it. Like Luna. 

But it wasn’t so simple, was it? He was still thinking about him. So there’s more to it than “Potter is annoying and I envy his life”. But not something Draco would ever be willing to admit.

He struggled to his feet, pacing from his living room to his kitchen. He grabbed a chocolate bar, and while he chewed an owl flew inside. He rolled his eyes, grunting. Mother never listens to him. She doesn’t even care that he lives on a muggle neighborhood. He unrolls the letter, staring at his mother’s curly handwriting. Then he just put his shoes on and apparates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, if something sounds odd please let me know. I accept betas for the future. This chapter was short, and I can't promise anything about the next one. But as soon as it's done I'll publish it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I appreciate sincere comments and kudos makes my heart swallow.


	3. One mochaccino and one vanilla cappuccino

“Lucius Malfoy commits suicide”

“After seven years in Azkaban the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy chooses to end his own life. He has bitten his own tongue off during the night, and was found already dead inside his cell, choked on his own blood”

Harry push the paper aside, choosing not to read the article.

—

Harry dreamt about choking on his own blood twice. He had nightmares about the Malfoy's trial. They stumbled on a alley a few weeks later. Draco was carrying groceries and Harry was surprised. He thought for a second that he might be mistaken, but Draco had his shirt’s sleeve rolled up, so he could see not only his dark mark, but a full-inked arm. 

“I’m sorry”, Harry said and he got out of Draco’s way

“My fault” Draco looked left, right and past Harry, never at him, even less at his eyes.

“So, you’re back”, he tried to chat, but Malfoy didn’t seem quite in the mood.

“Not exactly. Sorry, I’m late.” And he just walked away, leaving Harry behind.

“Send me an owl, will you?” Harry called from behind.

As if.

—

The first time Harry went to Alfredo’s, he didn’t expected much. It was just a muggle restaurant with one waiter and one chef - which was Alfredo, of course -, but he was enchanted by the food he found there. For starters, they don’t have a menu. They serve you with whatever it is that Alfredo feels like cooking, and it is usually exotic. You paid a fixed price for the whole meal. It was not cheap, but Harry sort of had a lot of money, so he was able to return whenever he felt like it.

The second time was as good as the first, and the third was fantastic. Toni, Alfredo’s waiter, usually spent a lot of time with each costumer, explaining the dishes and having small talk, and Harry appreciated that, since he usually goes by himself.

The fourth time, however, was a bit different. Alfredo’s dishes were usually large and over the top, but this time they were smaller, calculated and strategized. The salmon he had as an appetizer looked like a lotus, the risotto had the shrimps disposed in a symmetrical way, and the chocolate mousse he had as dessert was beautifully decorated with white chocolate patterns. All nothing like Alfredo. All at least as delicious.

“Wow, Toni”, Harry said when he came with the tab, “Alfredo sure outdone himself today”

“Oh, he wasn’t the chef today. You see, he decided to hire an sous chef, that way he can take some time off”.

“Tell him that the food was amazing, please”

“I sure will”, Toni received the check, and winked. Flirty as always.

—

Harry bought himself a flat at muggle London. He lost all his temper to deal with people staring, and he was long craving to do so, but was never able to make a move. He didn’t intent to live there, just to use it as a refuge from the wizarding world. So, he just picked the essentials for his kitchen, bathroom and a bed. But, as time went by, he noticed that he enjoyed staying there. Sometimes he would stay just for a day, away from the floo and owls, and other times he spent three nights in a roll.

His job as an Auror wasn’t satisfying. They never let Harry go out and get some action, he was far too precious to be lost in the field, and sitting on his arse all day behind a desk wasn’t exactly what Harry fancied to do for a living. 

As the days passed by Harry was less and less comfortable with his life. Once he decided to spent a whole week in his flat. Didn’t even warned Kingsley. When he got back, the others aurors not even commented on his absence. And he did it again, again and again. Sometimes he felt like never going back.

—

“Hi”

Harry looks over his shoulder, looking for whoever called him. He turns, seeing Malfoy standing behind him. His hair was even longer this time, like his father’s, sporting a low tail. He had glasses on. Nothing like himself.

“Oh, hi”, he answered as soon as he was done being surprised.

“Hi”, Malfoy repeated. He looked unsure, eyes twitching from left to right.

“Fancy meeting you here”, Harry tried to humor. The Hyde Park isn’t exactly a small place, and it’s muggle above all things.

“What, because it is muggle?”

Harry eyed Draco. Loafers, light blue jeans, black knitted jumper, tired eyes. “No, that’s not what I said”, he tried to correct himself.

“What did you say, then?” His voice was calm. Yet.

“I’m just surprised to see you. That’s all.” Harry looks to the ground. It was a cold day, far too cold for november. “Let me pay you a coffee”

“No”, Harry held his breath, “I’ll pay”, and Malfoy started walking. Harry followed him.

Draco had an odd way to walk. He always had. Chin too high, steps too firm, shoulders back. Much like a cat walk, nothing never is on his way. He wasn’t even looking at Harry, if Harry decided to walk away Malfoy wouldn’t even notice.

They arrived at a small french cafe, and Draco strode to a small table by the window, Harry following him, sitting directly across the blond.

“One mochaccino and one vanilla cappuccino, please”, Draco told the lady who stopped by the table, and she nodded to him with a smile.

“Which one is going to be mine?” Harry asked for the lack of what to say.

“Mocha”, Draco said dryly, “It has chocolate”

“Oh”, Harry isn’t exactly a big fan of coffee. He bounces one leg nervously, not being quite able to find anything to say.

“What do you want to ask me?”

Harry glares at a point beyond Draco’s head until the blond hair go out of focus.

“Nothing in particular, to be honest”

“Last time we saw each other you invited me to light your arse on fire and now you’re what, shy?”

“That was not the last time. Last time we bumped into each other and you were carrying groceries”

“I prefer to ignore that one”, Malfoy nod to the waitress that brought their coffee.

“Okay, then. Ignored.” Harry blows his mochaccino, and takes a curious zip. Who would have known, he might like coffee after all, “Why, do you want to put fire on my arse?”

“Don’t be absurd”, Malfoy almost smile, “I would be arrested for that”

“Nobody needs to know”

“Enough with that conversation”, he says as he rest his mug on the table, “Why did you invite me?”

“Do you really need those glasses?”

“Oh, no, I use them exclusively for aesthetic reasons. See, trying to look more like you, that way I purify my dark soul. Of course I need these bloody glasses.”

“You don’t need to be rude. I was just asking. You never wore them back at Hogwarts, that’s all”, Harry adjust his own glasses, self-conscious.

“I was too vain when I was younger. And my eyesight is not that poor anyway.”

“They look good on you”, he lied. Somehow making Malfoy feel good seemed to be more important than the truth at that moment.

“Drop it, Potter”, Malfoy says, and looks down at his hands, “What do you want?”

“Why did you said ‘Hi’?” Harry tries to turn the conversation around, he himself wasn’t sure about his own reasons.

“That’s the second time you’re avoiding my question, Potter.”

“I was just trying to be nice”, Harry answered as quick as he could.

Malfoy gaps at him. Somehow he felt like there was a right answer to Draco’s question, and he got it.

“It’s your turn now”

Malfoy was silent for a while. Harry thought about saying something just because the silence was making him uncomfortable, and just as he decides to try Malfoy speaks, “You always ask me to owl you”.

Harry nods, trying to encourage him.  
“But I never do. I don’t even have an owl anymore.”

“Neither do I”, Harry says just as he realizes the reason Malfoy doesn’t have an owl, so he adds, “But I do have an email”

“I’m not going to email you, you dumb fuck.”

“Wow. I expect more from you when it comes to insults”, Harry laughs. Malfoy smile in a way that probably meant he couldn’t believe he just heard that. Honestly, Harry couldn’t believe either.

“My vocabulary got lazy from living too long with the muggles”, Malfoy amends, “Pardon me as I try it again: I’m not going to email you, you ignorant, dense, brainless, mindless, foolish, idiotic, half-baked hippogriff.”

“You really lost your talent, Malfoy”, Harry says with a smile, finishing his coffee at least.

“Excuse me?” Malfoy looked truly offended, and just by looking at his face Harry wanted to laugh.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you think that calling me a stupid hippogriff is any good. Even ‘scarhead’ was better.”

“Are you aware that I’m not obligated to stay here?” Draco sits forward on his chair, hands on his knees. His jeans-covered knees.

“Yes, completely. I’m sorry. And I’m grateful that you’re still here”, Harry’s smile drops completely, coaxed, staring at his shoes.

He can hear Malfoy breathing, even from a decent distance.

“So”, Harry tries, looking up and finding only the Malfoy he met back at Hogwarts, scowling at him.

“So what?” Malfoy says when Harry stops talking. And Harry want’s to say, ‘so nothing, never mind, my mistake’ and walk away. He want’s to give up completely, but he can’t, can he?

“You’re living here now?” He asks instead.

“Yes. Mother was tired of Bordeaux, and wanted to come back.”

“So you came with her?”, Harry watches his grey eyes looking down, and he remembers the headline he saw on The Prophet months ago. Of course. “I mean weren’t you living in Paris?”

Draco takes a few moments. “I were. The Malfoy Château, however, was back at Bordeaux. You see, Potter, they are far away from each other, and since I studied at Paris it was easier for me to just live there than apparate back and forth and risk to be seen.”

“So you lived there by yourself?”, Harry sounded surprised, and he knew it.

“You can say that. I’m not as incompetent as one might think”, Malfoy ran a hand thought his hair, letting it loose just to redo his low tail, as if the time was able to make it messy all by itself. The blond had no scruff, his face was porcelain even, and his hair looked like it was made entirely out of silk. If he had shorter hair he would look way better. No one needs to remember Lucius Malfoy when looking at Draco.

“Again, I didn’t say that. I admire you quite a lot, actually”, typical gryffindor leap of faith, “I mean, leaving England was brave, going to live in a muggle town by yourself was brave, and studying at a muggle school of all things…”  
“You know, Potter, it is not brave when you have no other options”.

Harry could hear something cracking, figuratively speaking. Maybe his heart? He was not sure. He remembered Malfoy pointing his wand at Dumbledore. The way he hesitated. Draco might not see himself as brave, but he’s not a coward either.

“The fact that it was your only option doesn’t change the fact that you did it”, Harry said slowly.

“Yes, Wizengamot made it quite clear”, Harry winces. He put his feet on his mouth - again.

“Why cooking?”, Harry tries to change the course of this conversation, before he makes it any worse.

“Because it is much like potions. It’s nice to have something you’re good at.”

Harry nodded, trying to remember when was the last time he felt like he was good at something. Malfoy pulls the left sleeve of his jumper ever so slightly, revealing a tiny part of his inked arm and his wrist watch. He picks his wallet and leaves a couple of muggle bills on the table.

“Sorry, but I have to go. I’m almost late.”

Harry stands up at the same time Malfoy does and follow him outside.

“That was nice. Thanks for the coffee”, he says, and Malfoy just acknowledges it with a look and starts to walk away, “Send me an email. Or, heck, call me, I don’t know.”

“I work at Alfredo’s”, Draco half turns on his way, “if you really want to meet me again find out where it is.”

Harry smiled and waved. He watched the blond walk away quickly with long steps. Silly him. Harry already knew it.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took way longer than planned, and I'm deeply sorry about that. I absolutely love the fact that people take time to read some of my work and I love even more that some people even comment on that. All the critiques are welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> I might take a bit to post the next chapter, and I'm sorry. English is not my first language and I accept critics, including ways to make the text sound more natural and British.
> 
> Thank you for your time and patience.


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